


Auburn Fire

by Prince_Zukos_Honor, StarStickerX



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-01-11 04:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18422688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prince_Zukos_Honor/pseuds/Prince_Zukos_Honor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarStickerX/pseuds/StarStickerX
Summary: Thomas, King of the people of Pikoro, rules over his country with a sense of kindness and sincerity. However, when his son, the prince, gets kidnapped,, he has to enlist the arrogant royal scientist, a self conscious royal guardsman, and a lone librarian to bring him back.





	1. Prologue

Whatever light there was blinked away in torrential rain, leaving Pikoro in a gloomy darkness. Candles in every house were blown out, children had been put to bed, and weary parents allowed exhaustion to dominate them.

A farmer or two might have been out; maybe a sentry was out patrolling the streets. But the world felt abandoned. In the castle, however, the mood was anything but serene.

King Thomas and a child walked down the hallway of his castle that overlooked the kingdom while attendants frantically flocked them. They trailed behind Thomas, trying not to slip on the trail of water the child was leaving behind. The servants bombarded the two with streams of questions, even yelling to get the King’s attention. The King was not so hurried; he was rather tired of his attendants to be honest. He was thankful to have such loyal people under his command, but sometimes they grew to be unbearable.

A servant had been ordered to fetch dry clothes for the small, soaked boy. After that, the rest became a nuisance. The King would order them away only for them to come back moments later with more questions about his well-being. The King’s well-being wasn't important. Rather, Thomas's concern lay with the small boy who trudged through the hallway along with him. He had been in the rain when Thomas had found him, alerted by two guards who held the boy still. He was shivering, eyes unfocused. It unnerved Thomas. He didn’t know if his heart could bear a child’s death.

Once the boy was calmed down, they promised him a safe room with food and water. He was alone and impossibly quiet, responding in occasional nods. Thomas didn't press for answers yet. He was only a child, not a prisoner for interrogation. The boy would need time to accept what had happened, whatever may have led him to be stranded in the rain.

The king’s hand was pressed against the boy’s sopping wet back as he guided him through the corridor. He could feel small shivers and sniffles. He wasn’t sure if they were from sickness or sadness, but, again, he would not press matters. He feared it would only make the child feel worse.

The boy wasn’t sure what he’d do. He knew that he hadn’t been good enough for his previous family. Their side eyes at him, never tucking him in, never telling him they loved him. He knew he didn’t deserve love like his brother, but it still hurt. He didn’t think they would drop him off like an orphaned baby at the castle, though. The castle where he would never see them again, where they would never have to see him again. He almost wished he were a slave to his family or maybe even beaten and tortured by them. At least then he would’ve been wanted for something. He could have been useful. Maybe deserving like his brother. He willed those thoughts away. He probably did something to make them hate him. After all, he was alone in a cold palace, being pushed along by a King who would probably hate him more than his parents did.

The young child’s head was swimming. Why did the guard have to see me? I could’ve just lived on the streets! That would’ve been better than this. I probably woke the king up so he hates me. Why else is he not saying anything? Why can’t I say anything? Come on, speak you wimp!

The king finally led him to a door deep within the wall. When he opened it, Virgil saw a small room with a bed covered by a luxurious purple blanket, a table and a few chairs- all of it covered in a thin layer of dust. Had it not been the middle of the night, Thomas would have provided the small child a tidy room. However, the maids were already asleep and he knew how much they needed their sleep.

“Would you like to stay here? Maybe I can find you a better room for you tonight. You just came in so unexpectedly-“

“Sorry.” The boy looked at the ground. “If I’m trouble I can just go. I’ll live on the streets.”

“No!” The king yelled, making them both jump. The boy turned around to reveal a puffy red face stained by tears. Thomas’s heart shattered.

“What I mean is that I want you to be comfortable. Do you like this room, or do you want a different one?” The boy looked around the room for a little bit. On one hand, it was small and he despised small spaces. On the other hand, he wanted to avoid another long awkward walk through the castle with the looming King. He was better off on the street anyway. There was nobody to depend on. Nobody to let down. Nobody to let him down.

After another second of hesitation, he decided that it would be less trouble if he sucked it up. It didn’t matter anyway. He was going to run away as soon as he could. All he needed was a plan, then he would be gone and not a burden. The King was the king after all, and he had no time to care for a kid. He didn’t even have someone to help him out. There was no time in his schedule for worthless child.

“This room is fine.” The King sighed in relief, like a different answer would have been horrible. Of course, he had lied about a better room. He knew he didn’t deserve better than the worst room. “Do you mind if I ask you some questions while we wait for your dry clothes?” Thomas asked it gently, afraid that if he asked any louder the boy would burst into tears. Little did he know that the child was already close to them.

“Sure.” The boy was not about to promise anything.

There was a small pause, then the King motioned for him to sit on the bed. The boy hesitantly obeyed. Thomas took one of the chairs that was stationed at the table in the corner of the room and dragged it across the floor to face the boy. Not too close, but not too far away either.

The room was covered in bright candles (freshly lit by servants). Fat, small candles sat on the nightstand, tall church candles on the dresser, and a chandelier hung on the tall ceiling. They calmed the boy the some, but a few candles couldn’t stop the storm inside of him. What did the King want from him? Was he going to be a prisoner? Would he be let go again – the thought should have made him feel happy, but the storm only got worse when he thought that. He tried to look the King in the eyes, imagining he was already kicking him out. Already abandoning him.

“What’s your name?” The king started off simple, as if it were merely casual chit-chat.

“V-Virgil.” he said hesitantly.

“What a unique name! I like it. My name is Thomas. Honestly it’s rather dull. ” The King (he was not about to call the King by his first name) gave Virgil a smile that punched a large hole in his wall of anxiety. It was so calm and full of experience that Virgil almost broke down in the King’s arms right then and there. However, he had some dignity. He would not lose it to a person who he had known for less than twenty minutes. Especially to the man who was worth more than the land he walked on. He was a king. Kings were treated with high respect, not childish emotions.

“Do you mind telling me you how you got here?” Thomas pushed some urgency into his tone, until he saw the misery in Virgil’s eyes. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” He received a nervous nod.

“All right, what's your favorite color then?” Thomas tried to stray away from anything that would return discomfort to Virgil’s eyes. Anything but that.

Virgil almost laughed. The King had just found him alone in the rain, mid-breakdown, and he wanted to know his favorite color? His parents were right, he really was insane! He wasn’t even wearing fancy clothes. The King should have slept in the finest silk pajamas!

Under normal circumstances Virgil would’ve stayed quiet. However, the question was so absurd he had to answer.

“It’s uh- it’s purple… I guess.” Virgil looked down. The king’s eagerness was too much.

“Purple is a pretty great color. I’m a fan of it myself. Do you mind telling me how old you are?” Thomas was heartbroken to hear the word “Six” slide out of Virgil’s mouth. He seemed smart and mature, almost too mature, for his age. Was he kicked out? Did he run away? What happened to lead him here?

Thomas stopped those thoughts. Virgil’s hunched posture and downcast eyes told Thomas he wasn’t ready.

“Wow!” The king put on a fake bright smile- even Virgil seemed to notice the loss of luster in it. “You’re a big kid, huh?” Virgil mumbled an “I guess.”

A sharp knock on the door broke the mood. Thomas slid out of the chair and opened the door. An attendant stood on the other side with a stack of clothes in their hands.

“A variety of clothes for the boy to choose from.” They smiled and laid the clothes on the dresser. Thomas gave a polite smile, though internally sighed. He wasn’t angry that they were interrupted, only frustrated at the servant. Granted, this one was doing as they were told, but he had already had enough of it today. He would be happy if the constant attention diminished for an entire hour. That was if Thomas believed in miracles.

“Thank you Talyn.” He smiled genuinely, pushing aside his frustration, and sent them off.

“I’ll stand outside the door while you change. Knock when you’re done and I can read a story to help you sleep.” Thomas let a blissful smile burst seeing Virgil’s eyes widen. A story?

“Oh, you don’t have to! You need sleep and-“

“Oh, I insist!” The king smiled again, stripping down another barrier of anxiety within Virgil. It made him flinch. His kindness was so overwhelming, and Virgil felt his heart warm at the thought of a bedtime story.

It didn’t mean he was anywhere close to allowing him to read him a story, though. Or maybe he was. The more he thought about it the more curious he was. The more curious he was, the more the offer started to tempt him.

Thomas, sensing Virgil was taking to the idea continued. “After all, it’s been an eventful night. I think we both need it.” Thomas winked and walked out the door, leaving the frightened boy to stare at the closed door. Virgil didn’t want to know what that last sentence meant. Was the king okay? Did he need Virgil’s problems to deal with as well?

Virgil hesitantly moved over to the pile of clothes on the dresser. They were all generic clothes- nothing too special, which was shocking in a castle- but Virgil couldn’t make himself take them. They were the King’s. Not his. Then he shivered again. His clothes were really heavy and cold and he wanted nothing more than to feel dry again. So, to his dismay, he gave into the temptation.

Once he had changed, he realized how tired he was. He could very well not knock on the door and fall asleep without informing the King. He was pretty sure that would end in less conversation and more comfortable silence. But he didn’t want to be alone, and he cursed himself for feeling that way. He didn’t want to talk to anyone. He hated interaction. But now of all times he craved attention. Why was he so clingy?

He was snapped out of his thoughts by how excitedly he had knocked on the door. What was that? You’re an idiot, idiot.

Before he could tell the king to go away, he stepped in with a wide smile that calmed him down instantly. Well, that was an overstatement. He had calmed him down significantly in the past hour. He was no longer shaking or crying which he hadn’t even noticed. What kind of sorcery did this king possess?

He shrugged the question off. That was to be determined for a later time.

When did he decide there would be later?

That was no matter. Right now he was tired and promised a story. He slipped under the fluffy purple covers, too tired to deny the story now.

“Does this mean you’ll let me read to you?” The king’s smile widened if it was even possible. Then it widened even more (how was he doing that?) when Virgil nodded. The King let out an un-kingly squeal before walking towards the wall in front of the bed.

It occurred to Virgil that the only thing that was missing from the bedtime story was the book. If there was a story time, there had to be a book. That was a law at home. Well, at least his old home, when his brother got read to nightly.

As if on cue, Thomas tapped his foot on a loose brick in the wall and another brick popped loose, barely in the wall, now. If the king had kicked the bottom brick any harder he would’ve been decked in the face.

Virgil, wide-eyed, looked at the brick the King was pulling out, only to see it wasn’t a brick at all. Rather, it was a box. Lo and behold, inside of it, there was a book with a fancy red cover. At Virgil’s awestruck face, Thomas smiled smugly.

Thomas’s back was facing Virgil, who took the opportunity to snuggle even deeper under the blanket. The king walked over to the chair beside the bed and sat, keeping his eyes on the book the entire way, entranced. This was his favorite book, the one he kept in the safest place he knew – his old room. He adored the story and read it on nights when life bogged him down. It always lightened his load, no matter the circumstances. He had a feeling that it would help a small boy named Virgil tonight.

He tenderly opened to the first page where a young man was illustrated.

“‘Once upon a time, there was a man.’” Thomas started. Virgil listened intently, this being his first bedtime story.

“‘This man would become a hero, although no one expected a man like him to be a hero. He was considered the lowest of the low. It was only through miracles of magic that he was able to rise to the top.” The story already sounded over-simplified and boring. Virgil looked down and started twiddling his thumbs. He was paying attention, but also started thinking, trying to do an equal amount of both.

Right now he was feeling mildly dismal, even though he wasn’t sad or mad like he was earlier. He still hadn’t come to terms with what happened- he didn’t think he ever would- but at the same time, he didn’t want to dwell on it. Virgil felt like he was telling the sad emotions to shut up and let the soothing ones take over. They halfway listened to him, settling to a conflicting middle, and Virgil wasn’t sure if he was grateful or annoyed by that.

“‘His story was so magnificent and radiant that he decided that he would tell his story to everyone. So he stood in the town square and shouted ‘I have an amazing story!’ The people gathered around and listened to his tale. They all enjoyed it, then walked away, some gifting the young hero a golden coin or kind words. The man was happy.’” The story was uplifting, Virgil had to admit, but almost too cheery. Any more happiness and he might throw the book out of the window. He wanted realistic happiness, not some perfect fairy tale version of it.

“‘The next day he was enraged to find that the townsfolk started to follow in his footsteps.’” Now this was more like it. “‘Now they were all standing in the square and sharing their stories. Their stories didn’t have as much action or magic as his. They were bland and jumbled. The young hero didn’t like that, so he criticized the storytellers harshly and left.’” Virgil was leaned up, looking at the King. He was one with the book, and it was so close to his face that images were a blur. Words mashed together. Thomas didn’t need them. The story had long ago etched itself into his heart.

“‘That night, the town was discouraged. Citizens wept in their homes because their stories were not as wonderful as the young hero’s story. They cried all night, and when the day came nobody came out with it. What was the point of life if it was not as fruitful as the young hero’s?’” Well, Virgil knew conflict was needed, but the story was starting to get depressing. “‘That morning, the hero was dismayed to find that nobody was in the square to hear his story. He looked in every alley and street, every corner and enclosure. Eventually he found a young maiden who was tending to the chickens in her field. Unlike the other villagers, she had stayed home the last two days to tend to her livestock and had not gone through the recent trouble.’” Oh great, a girl was introduced. The hero would get her and they would be happy together. It was how storytellers on street corners always ended their stories, and Virgil knew this would be no different.

“‘The hero confronted the girl about the issue. She explained that her parents were discouraged by a young man who told them their story would never be quite like his. That was when the hero realized he made a mistake. He apologized to the girl before running to the square.’” Virgil could see where this was going. He would be forgiven and learn to accept others. The girl would forgive him first, which meant they would get together. “‘He yelled in the square to get the townspeople's attention. When a few shuffled out of their homes, he told one of the stories he had heard in the square yesterday. He told another one, then another, then the next and the next until he had run out of stories to give. By then, all the townspeople were out of their homes and watching the hero.’”

“‘They looked at him, thought for a while, then turned their backs on him. He had failed. The Young Hero left town and was never seen again. His story, which was so new, had ended in the span of two days.’” The King shut the book, leaving Virgil to process the ending. Thomas chuckled when he was silent for a minute straight.

“That wasn’t what you were expecting, was it?” He was amused to see boy shake his head.

“There was no happy ending!” he exclaimed. Thomas chuckled again.

“Yes, there was.” Thomas smiled. Virgil looked at him like he was crazy.

“No there wasn’t, he left town!”

“But that horrible story ended and he was able to rewrite his story, or perhaps he moved on to a better story. That’s what the reader must determine. I’d like to think he went on many more adventures and wrote many more stories. One bad story doesn’t speak for many good ones.” Thomas let his words sink in. He could see the gears in Virgil’s head twisting and turning.

“What if he didn’t write any more stories? What if he was scared his next story would be bad too?” Virgil whispered. Thomas was heartbroken by how emotionally charged he sounded, yet not surprised. If the last hour taught him anything, it was that Virgil had been through far, far too much.

“Well, that’s the thing, he didn’t let life write the stories for him after that. He wrote his own stories.” Virgil sat where Thomas sat long ago, staring at the purple cloth much like Thomas had when he learned that lesson.

It was silent for a while after that. Thomas flickered between Virgil and the closed book. He would have said something else, but he didn’t want to break the quiet. On the other hand, he really did want to break it.

For Thomas, the story inspired him to be a better king. It reminded him that a few mistakes didn’t mean that the entire kingdom would suffer a fiery death. Mistakes were okay sometimes. If he tried to be perfect all the time, he would upset a lot of people, and that was the one mistake he couldn’t afford. The one that might actually result in the Kingdom’s suffering.

“Can-” Thomas was snapped from his thoughts. “- can I tell you a story? It’s not a happy one either.” Thomas nodded, then realized that Virgil wasn’t looking at him, a change from a few minutes ago. He was back to the scared boy in the rain.

“Of course.” His voice was soft as to preserve the fragility of the conversation. He was about to hear important information and he didn’t want to miss any of it.

“So I- I uh… there was this boy…” Virgil fumbled for words, then looked up at the smiling king, who nodded in encouragement. Virgil took a deep breath and continued. “I was a good kid at home. I tried not to get in trouble and my family took care of me.” He swallowed some sobs that worked his way up through his throat with a weird strangled noise before continuing. “I- I mean they loved my brother more, but I thought, I had hoped they loved me. Suddenly they were mad at me… or they just decided to show how much they hated me… or something. I’m not even sure what it was. All I know was I was being pulled toward the castle and I was told to stay and they left and I waited for a really long time and they didn’t come back and I saw a note tucked into my pocket and it said they didn’t want me anymore and I threw it away and ran away and I bumped into a guard and-“ Virgil had tears running down his checks and Thomas’s arms were tightly wrapped around his tiny frame.

The king was furious. Furious that such an amazing child was abandoned in the rain. Who did that to their child? He didn’t mind sitting next to Virgil, comforting the child screaming in emotional pain. Virgil felt already broken emotions being stomped over and over until it was nothing but cloudy, suffocating dust.

Eventually, Virgil lifted his head, dizzy from physical and emotional fatigue. His screams had stopped by then, but that didn’t mean he had stopped screaming on the inside. He removed his head from the King’s shoulder because the king had asked him if he wanted to stay in the castle forever.

“As like your son?” Virgil asked. Neither the king nor the boy knew if he sounded hopeful or depressed. Thomas almost burst into tears at the word ‘son.’ He was only eighteen, could he really take care of a child?

Virgil was already backpedaling. Why had he said that?! He only just met the King! Why was he so hopeful today?!

“Only if you want to be my- my son.”

“Y-yeah.” Virgil laid his head on the king’s shoulder again, somewhat content this time. He was halfway asleep before the king asked him another question.

“Do you want me to stay here?”

Thomas didn’t mind his stiff neck the next morning.


	2. Chapter 1: The Turtle in the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: deception, kidnapping, and Logan being insensitive

Chapter One: The Turtle in the Sky

“Your highness, the librarian requests your presence.” Virgil turned to the voice and smiled. 

“Talyn, you could’ve just said Patton needed me.”

“That’s not as fun.”

Virgil snorted as the attendant and close friend left his room. He knew Patton would ask for him. It was tea and reading day, and Patton wouldn’t let him forget about it. Patton failed to realize that Virgil would never forget tea with his best friend.

For the eleven years Virgil had lived in the castle, he’d only managed to befriend Talyn and Patton, one of whom was mad at that fact. As Patton put it, Virgil was “a sweetheart that couldn’t hurt a fly, and everyone deserves a friend as good as you.” Of course, Virgil had hurt a fly before, and he wasn’t a good friend, but he would never tell Patton that.

Virgil walked out of his tiny room, nearly bumping into a maid as he did.

“S-sorry.” He choked out. The maid smiled and nodded, then continued walking. He was lucky he was the prince, the servants couldn’t take their anger out on him. Thomas would throw them out the door in a heartbeat if they did. People could hurt Thomas all day long, but not his son. Never his son.

When Virgil first arrived in the castle, how he got there was known in less than a day, a few townsfolk were wary to trust him. However, most were overjoyed to have the small presence stumble around the castle with stars in his eyes. The kingdom actually held a celebration dedicated to him. It became an annual thing, as well. Thomas called it Virgil's second birthday.

He carefully maneuvered through the dense traffic of the hallway by hugging the wall, a habit that stuck with him since his early days in the castle. The maids and attendants paid him no attention- Virgil’s exploring was constant by now. After eleven years, he had found nearly every secret room, compartment, and hallway. It was quite a thrill whenever Virgil pushed a brick and found a secret space behind it. Once he had found an ancient silver ring, etched with foreign symbols. When he let the castle smith inspect it, he told Virgil that the ring was at least a hundred years old, or maybe even older.

Adventuring was an acquired taste for the homebody Prince; however, his room left him more cramped than comfortable, no matter how luxurious his bed. If King Thomas knew Virgil stayed in a room he had despised for eleven years, he would probably flip his lid. Though he did like the secret compartments it offered for midnight boredom. Still, the morning always came, chilling his fingers and leaving him too crowded.

The castle was home to several lots of scattered land, like the courtyard Virgil loved to stroll in, and the kitchen where he attempted to bake, at Patton’s insistence. This kitchen, now dubbed the smoky room (after the fork incident), was up three staircases and went through several hallways from his room. He passed it now. The library was only down the hall, barely 30 feet from where he stood. Virgil shouldn’t have been delayed, he was right all. But life was never that simple for him.

Instead, Virgil rescued a man from being impaled. He was walking past a simple door, and what appeared to be a bayonet in a gun. The sword came barreling toward the man in one swift movement. It would have stabbed the poor soul, since neither he nor the soldiers were paying attention. The man because he was trying to read two books at once, and the soldiers because, well Virgil didn’t look long enough at them to figure that out.

Virgil leaped toward him, pushing him over with one big grunt. The man let out a surprised yell as a random man tackled him to the floor. The soldiers hadn’t seen the man in front of the cart of guns, and rolled the cart out of the room, turning their backs to the scene that unfolded behind them. At least there were small mercies in the world.

Virgil reeled, pulling himself off the man, tempted to run away. That seemed better than trying to explain the random, unlikely scenario that occurred seconds ago. Virgil spent too much time in his head, as usual, and the man’s head swiveled around to meet Virgil’s panicked gaze.

“What happened.” The man said it as a request rather than a question, his eyes demanding a prompt reply. Virgil deemed him rude, almost mad at himself for saving him from being impaled. The Patton in his head tsked at the thought.

 

“I-I u-u...uh y-I…” Dang it Virgil, can’t you speak a coherent sentence?

The man was standing up now, brushing the crumbs of dust off his clothes, grabbing his books so fast they slammed together. He was muttering something harshly, but Virgil couldn’t understand any of it, too caught up in his own struggle to speak.

“There was a- a pointy thing…” Saying it out loud, Virgil realized how dumb he sounded.

“A pointy thing?” The man deadpanned. He straightened the tiny glasses balanced on his nose, taking those more seriously than Virgil.

“Y-yea… um and it was g-g-g-“

“Look,” The man cut him off and pointed a finger at him, seeming to think it would intimidate Virgil. Maybe for normal people it would, but Virgil dealt with the worst kinds of people on a weekly basis.

“I am not here to play games. I am here for a purpose far greater than yours. So stop bothering me and go back to whatever room you stuttered your way out of.” The man growled. As he walked away, he could hear the idiot mumbling something, but didn’t think two seconds about it. Some people didn’t deserve his time or attention.

What Virgil had said was, “Then watch where you’re going next time, cause I won’t save you from death by bayonet.” But the man was already gone, and Virgil’s words had never even hit the man’s ears. Virgil didn’t know who the guy was, or what he might have been going through, but that did not justify his rudeness to him. After all, Virgil had saved his life!

Virgil cleared his thoughts, trying to ‘live and let live,’ as Thomas would say. There were better people to focus on. Patton would’ve thrown his arms around him and thanked him for saving him from such an untimely death. He would have hugged him until all the stars disappeared in the sky. His gratefulness would continue until the end of his days, and after that, his children would be grateful, and after that, their children would be grateful. This would stretch on and on no matter how much Virgil affirmed them it was not a big deal. Sure, Virgil didn’t want that extreme of a reaction, but he would have appreciated a ‘thank you.’ Nonetheless, he was almost at the library and that man had no place in his mind.

That didn’t stop Virgil’s mood from being slightly dampened when he walked in.

“Well look who decided to show up! I thought I’d have to drink your tea for you! Now I feel tea-lightful!” Patton laughed with that smile that always made Virgil grin. Patton got through to him no matter what, even if it was through a bad pun. He was four year reigning champion of making Virgil happy, and that trophy wasn’t going to be taken away from him any time soon.

“Sorry Patton, I got held up by some idiot with a nose in two books.” Virgil rolled his eyes at the thought as he grabbed a seat behind the wooden counter Patton was stationed at, smile beginning to fade. Patton slid a cup full of tea across the counter, Virgil gladly taking it.

“Was he wearing a blue vest?” Patton asked, sighing when Virgil nodded. The Prince took a sip of the calming jasmine tea, waiting for Patton to continue.

“Don’t pay any attention to Logan. He’s stressed. He is the youngest royal scientist after all. He prides himself on having some new discovery every month, and it seems Pikoro has run out of discoveries this year.” Patton shrugged and picked up his cup of tea. “Honestly, I’d stay out his way.”

Virgil grunted in agreement, not bothering to speak. He had no positive input on the situation, as he had already decided that Logan was an imbecile. No amount of what Patton said made that any less true.

When Virgil told him what happened, Patton ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head.

“He gets mad at anything not related to his research, especially if it deals with people.” Patton took a sip of his own tea, turning to step up a ladder behind him. He came down with two books reserved for their reading time.

“Yes, but it doesn’t justify-“

“Virgil, let it go.” Patton sighed and pressed a book to Virgil’s chest. It was labeled The Snow Queen. “For now, read. Let the book take your mind off him. He’s not worth the time.” Patton smiled softly, starting his book. Virgil stared at his book, about to do the same, though he couldn’t stop his curving lips. He was glad Patton was already captured by the book.

Reading time was quiet time for them. They lounged around drinking tea, each time a new blend, and reading their respective novels. Then, they talked about their books afterwards. Virgil criticizing, Patton praising. After that, they’d talk about anything on their minds. Virgil would talk about his worries about becoming king or his excitement surrounding upcoming events. Patton would talk about new books he had found in his library or the story of the week. It was a day to relax, to talk. Virgil couldn’t be more thankful for these days.

It was a few hours before Virgil finished his book, and another hour before Patton finished his. Patton, despite being a librarian, was a slow reader. Patton often wished he could read faster, but Virgil didn’t care. He liked watching people flow in and out of the library.

Not many people visited, but when they did Virgil locked his gaze onto them. It was a little creepy, and when they met his eyes he wanted to curl up on himself. Regardless of those situations, it was relaxing to watch another person move through the shelves, analyzing the different selections.

Patton yawned and shut his book, catching Virgil’s attention.

“How was yours?” Virgil asked with a small laugh in his voice, recalling his own cover having a buff man on it holding a girl.

“It was fantastic! I have to admit, the genre was different, but I didn’t mind!” Patton cheered, making the only attendant in the library shush him. He gave a distressed smile before turning back to Virgil. “The romance part was really cute though!” Patton squealed. Virgil shook his head in amusement.

“You are such a sap.” Virgil grinned. Patton scoffed, his amused smile breaking through his act.

“Excuse me, I’ll have you know I did not come from a tree.” Virgil groaned.

“Patton that was bad even for you.” Virgil laid his head in his hands, blocking out the bad puns that were about to attack him. Patton smiled wider.

“Oh, leaf me alone will you?”

“Patton, I will leaf- I will leave.”

“Then you’d missing a real tree-t!” Virgil laughed, which greatly surprised Patton. The Prince rarely let his happiness go beyond small smiles.

The library door slammed open with a crash, making everyone jump. Not only did someone clank into the library, but they disregarded the most sacred rule- be quiet. Not even Patton’s squeals compared to the scene now.

“Patton, I require your assistance!” A dramatic voice rang through the library as the man strutted to the counter. The sentence bounced off the walls, lengthening the shock in the library.

Finally, everybody in the room (except for the loud man) took it upon themselves to hush said boisterous man. He instantly blushed, shrinking in on himself.

“Sorry…” he mumbled. 

The man was Roman, head of the royal guard. Most knew him by his loud voice, or his absurdity. Still, most figured he was a good guy under the layers of cockiness and fierce determination. He would save anyone, having mercy on even his enemies. Some thought it was his biggest fault, others his best feature. He had a hero’s heart and fool’s tongue. Patton made friends with him a long time ago, and Virgil had learned to put up with him.

“Roman! Good to see ya buddy!” Patton gave him a cheerful smile, Virgil halfheartedly replicating it.

“Oh, good morning, your highness!” Roman said, bowing.

“Just call me Virgil, Prince Charming.” Virgil sighed exasperatedly, waving an annoyed hand at his bow. Roman rose up, raising a very dramatic brow at the nickname.

“Aren’t you the Prince?” Roman mused, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

“Aren’t you… um not a prince?” Virgil shot back, irritation from being surprised slowly fading. Roman pressed his lips into a line, musing something. Then, he turned his attention to the colorful man next to the gloomy prince.

“Hey Pat, sorry about the whole yelling thing.” 

“It’s not a big deal.” Patton waved a dismissive hand. “It made the library a bit less dull.” Catching Roman’s drift, he pointed a look at Virgil. The Prince scoffed.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t the one coming up with tasteless puns!”

“I wasn’t the one laughing at them.” Patton pointed a finger at him, close to poking him on the cheek.

“Poke me, and I’ll bite you.” Virgil threatened, his voice distinctly lacking malice.

“Now this is interesting!” They all giggled, Virgil rolling his eyes.

“Anyways, what do you need, Roman?”

“Hm? Oh, yes. I need a book-“

“Well ya came to the right place.” Virgil interjected. Roman chose to ignore him.

“-specifically about swords. It was also in the title.” Patton exhaled loudly.

“I’m gonna need a title Roman, I can’t keep doing this.” Patton’s joking tone was laced with slight irritation.

“Well, sucks for you because I don’t have one!” Roman declared in a yell, once again being shushed by the grumpy attendant.

“Do you have any chill?” He yelled to the strict woman, who was already walking out of the room. 

“Do you have any chill?” Virgil asked. Roman swirled around to give him a sneer. Patton was “ooooooooo”-ing quietly beside Virgil, leaning on the counter with an amused smirk.

“It had something to do with a stone and a sword.” Roman pressed on, still facing Virgil’s smug grin. 

“The Sword and the Stone?” Patton asked.

“Yeah! That’s the one!” Roman beamed at the librarian.

“That was fast.” Virgil muttered. Roman once again decided to ignore him.

“You are so lucky that I know where that is. Even then you’re lucky that you’re my friend because it’s at the very top.”

The library was a tall room, so when Patton pointed up to the aforementioned shelf, he might as well have pointing at the ceiling. Virgil snorted while Roman muttered some sort of curse in awe.

“Don’t worry Pat, I’ll get it. Where is it exactly?” Virgil stood up, already climbing the long ladder. Patton’s shoulders relaxed as he mentioned something about it being in the middle of the top shelf. How convenient. 

Virgil, despite climbing a giant ladder at this very moment, was absolutely terrified of heights. Normally, Patton would have done this without complaining, but even at his bravest Virgil had to coax him down. This time, the book was at the very top, meaning Patton would never come down. Besides, Virgil was too scared of letting Patton fall; he didn’t think his heart could take it. Determined, he sucked a deep breath. Don’t look down don’t look down don’t look down.

He looked down. He was nearly halfway there, steps getting slower and slower. Gravity was starting to increase on him and the ladder was shaking and for some dumb reason he was starting to cry. Patton noticed this, shouting encouragement, before promptly getting shushed by a new group of library visitors. Virgil could hear Roman laughing below. Patton was whining about how the librarian shouldn’t get shushed. Virgil would have laughed, but his head felt light, ears fuzzy. He kept climbing.

A week later, he reached the top. If he felt like he was on a mountain before, he was on the mountain’s peak now with absolutely no rope keeping him from tumbling down. His breath came faster, and he reminded himself that he was not, in fact, on a mountain, but on a ladder in a library.

He scanned the shelf for the book, shakily laughing when he saw it. He thought about reaching out. He thought about it. His hands locked shut. His fingers were glued down, the ladder his only anchor. 

It took an encouraged cheer from Patton to lessen his grip, to reach to his left for the novel. Thankfully the ladder wasn’t far away from the book, so he didn’t have to shift his balance or stretch for the book. That still didn’t stop him from laying on the bookshelf, tucking his feet on the ladder, and sprawling out his free arm wildly to find the book.

He checked the title The Sword and The Stone. Then he checked again to make sure there weren’t any microscopic details that were different. Then he checked again to make sure that the book wasn’t under a spell that would change the title of the book so when he checked at the bottom of the ladder it wouldn’t be the right book. Then he checked again to make sure he didn’t see it wrong. 

Finally, he slid the book underneath his arm and started process of climbing down. It was definitely harder than going up, which should have been impossible. If Patton ever got up there, he would definitely be stuck forever.

After another agonizing hour had passed, Virgil’s feet were finally on the floor. Then his body was on the floor, his legs reduced to jelly. He shakily handed the book over to Roman, who eagerly grabbed it. Patton laughed somberly, as if he had been up there with Virgil.

“Patton, for as long as both you and I live, you are never going up there.” Patton laughed at that, though Virgil was dead serious. He was the prince, surely he could convince King Thomas to expand the library horizontally.

“Why are you laying on the floor?” Roman asked.

“It’s closer to the ground.” Both Patton and Roman snorted at that.

“Are you okay?” Three voices asked at once. Patton looked to his right, then waved.

“Hullo King Thomas!” Upon hearing this, Roman swirled around, instantly kneeling. Virgil somehow stood up, giving a wavy smile.

“Dad!” He ran over, ‘accidentally’ kicking Roman over. He gave Thomas a hug to make up for not seeing him in a few days. They were both victims of hug withdrawal, so they held it for a solid minute.

“Missed you.” Virgil tried to put as much feeling as he could into those words. Lately he was getting less and less time with his adopted father. He never really called him dad, but sometimes it slipped out, making Thomas incredibly happy. Which was probably why Thomas was beaming at him when Virgil pulled back. 

“I missed you more, although I didn’t expect to see you on that ladder.” Thomas chuckled.

“I was helping Patton. I know how much he hates heights.”

“Well you aren’t exactly a fan of them either.”

“Yeah, but have you ever tried to coax him down when he’s only halfway to the top? Not fun.” Patton shrugged shyly.

“You were the one that told me to face my fears.”

“I meant one step at a time, not by going way past your limits at once you moron!” Virgil playfully punched Patton’s shoulder, Patton shooting him a fake offended glare.

“I see you made another friend.” Thomas smiled, looking over to a still kneeling Roman. Virgil was amused to see that he looked semi-pissed off.

“Your majesty.” Roman said, face so low that his forehead touched the floor. If he went any further he’d have to tunnel underground.

“Roman, when are you going to start calling me Thomas?” He deadpanned, a smile tugging at his lips. He wasn’t angry, only tired of formalities. Roman visibly flinched and stood. He would take the hint. The King - Thomas- wanted to be his friend, not an official that wanted to be sucked up to.

“Oh, um.” Roman squeaked. Virgil snorted.

“Kings are just as important as you are, Roman.” Thomas said. Virgil patted Roman’s shoulder to which he gave a small smile.

Patton, sensing that Thomas wasn’t used to explaining this so thoroughly, went, “Wow, I guess you could say that he-”

“Patton don’t you dare.”

“- got throne off his groove.” The group laughed as one, even Virgil. Then, as the laughter died down, they realized that the day awaited. Slowly, they went their separate ways.

-

The library exchange was the only fun part of the day for Virgil, with the rest of it being completely aimless. He had followed the king, catching up and making jokes. After a bit though, silence took the place of conversation.

“The one day I’m free there’s nothing to talk about. Seriously, this day is slower than a sleeping turtle.” Thomas had joked.

Eventually his stomach growled, as if telling him that the day was, in fact, moving. Virgil walked to the kitchen where some fresh sandwiches had been made. He gnawed on the cold turkey as he walked around, but wasn’t feeling hungry anymore. By then, he was in the courtyard where the sun was visible, not even bothering to inch along.

As a last ditch effort to entertain himself, he walked to his room and changed into dark clothes and a cloak, crawling out of his bedroom window. He scaled down the castle walls, using the ivy that was strong enough to support him. He looked down then, feeling his knees shake. Honestly, he didn’t sneak out much, too anxious he would be caught in the village. But Virgil made exceptions when the day refused to move forward. Today, he would play the mysterious stranger in the town.

Once he reached solid ground, he followed the worn dirt path (if he exited the main way the guards were sure to see him) until he felt confident enough to go on the twisting brick road to Pikoro’s square. Merchants were selling food, art, and furniture all around. There were street performers near the edges of the square, dancing to the songs inside their head. In the middle, there was an ornate fountain of Pikoro’s founding Queen. Around it there was a girl with a fiddle, a man with a guitar, and a woman with three paintings for sale. 

People were constantly swirling in the square, people who would recognize him. Obviously, the best course of action was to make eye contact with one of those people. Nice going dimwit.

The man looked at him through his small glasses, analyzing the hooded teen. Virgil assumed he was noticing that the teenager was in fact the Prince. When the man apparently finished his analysis, he smiled and waved, carrying on shopping. That was weird. Maybe he had Virgil’s back. If so, he wanted more people like that in the world. Or maybe he was confused and smiled at random strangers for no reason.

After Virgil had walked around, donating as much as he could to the performers without looking suspicious, he concluded that the sun had overloaded on sugar and was too hyper to sleep.

“Prince Virgil?” A voice spoke behind him. His stomach sank, heart pounding. He really didn’t want to make a scene with an overprotective servant. “What are you doing out of the castle?” The voice paused. “Is prince life not suiting you anymore?”

“Roman?” Virgil turned. Sure enough, Roman was stationed near a conference hall, wearing the clunkiest armor the castle had. Virgil was sure that they had replaced that style a few years ago, so why was Roman wearing the heavy armor? Maybe it was more protective?

“Hey storm cloud, nice of you to visit me. Really, I was getting lonely.”

“Sorry for tensing up, I thought I was about to be ratted out.” Virgil rolled his eyes, stepping closer. The last thing he wanted was for Roman to lose volume control in public.

“What makes you think you aren’t getting ‘ratted out’?” Roman joked, leaning against the wall. He had a smug look on his face. Virgil was going to have to wipe it off, wasn’t he?

“Like you’d risk upsetting your Prince, son of King Thomas himself.” 

“Like I’d risk getting in trouble with the King when you’re discovered missing.”

“Please, I’ve been missing several times.” Virgil snickered, hoping it hid the sound of the lie.

Roman snorted. “ So you like getting stuck in walls?’” Virgil’s face flushed a bright pink.

“That wasn’t my fault.” It wasn’t! When he was eight, he had discovered a secret passageway, and he may or may not have ended getting himself stuck in a wall.

“How did you manage to do that anyways?” Roman said, tracing the shape of a brick delicately with his index finger. Ever so often he would pick at a small rock that jutted far out of the structure until it fell off, then resumed tracing the rectangle until he found another one. “I mean sleepwalking, really?”

“I was just a kid, and it was a long time ago.” Lie. How could he forget? That was his first hidden passage.

After Thomas had shown him the compartment in the wall, Virgil developed an obsession to find more of those little secrets. He had spent his first few days in the palace smacking every brick he could. He was dismayed to fail, but continued trying. He was unsuccessful for two years, until, after leaning on the right brick, a door had opened in front of him. He was so in awe that it didn’t occur to him that he’d have to find a way out. So, when the door closed behind him, he started crying and screaming and running into the closed wall. Thankfully, it was a simple passage, so he was able to find his way out by going the opposite direction. That made more than a scene when he was found sticking out of a wall. The servants were so in shock that they bought his story about sleepwalking his way into it.

Of course, not every passage is that simple. The way out is almost impossible to find, usually concealed by a spell or in one of countless bricks. It was an art that took time to master. After eleven years of studying, Virgil was a master at finding hidden nooks, crannies, and passages. He knew almost every inch of the castle. He was sure there were some hidden secrets that he had yet to run across, but he was determined to find those within the next few years.

Roman hummed in response, knocking the nostalgia out of Virgil.

“It is a pretty weird to forget something like that though...” he trailed off, not really investing his thoughts into the matter.

“So do you really enjoy leaning on random walls? Do you want to get stuck in one too?” Roman rolled his eyes.

“I’m stationed here, but I really don’t know why. Nothing has happened here, and um-” Roman coughed, suddenly avoiding Virgil’s eyes. “I’m just here.”

“Are you sure?” Virgil deadpanned. Roman let out a scoff.

“How dare you accuse a noble knight of such an act of lying! You offend me!” Virgil couldn’t help but stare. That super secret dirt path must have been patrolled. Or maybe someone noticed a figure in black scaling down the beige castle wall. And this is why I don’t sneak out.

“If you aren’t going turn me in I’m gonna go. Have a good day, Princey!” Then Virgil, missing Roman’s dropped jaw, tugged his hood farther over his head and walked away. He didn’t dare look back at the knight.

Roman was floundering at his post. How had he given it away? He was discreet! It was orders not to tell the prince, he couldn’t help it.

He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. He was tired of waiting for danger. Danger from an empty threat. The Great King Thomas was known for diplomacy, so why would Joan threaten them? There hadn’t even been in a war the eleven years Thomas had ruled.

“That was a fantastic performance. You should go into theatre.” A voice softly mocked. Roman gripped his sword, only relaxing when he saw a familiar face.

“Greetings De, I trust nothing has gone wrong in the other divisions?”

“Can’t we speak unprofessionally tin man?” He scratched his scales, eyes lazily scanning his surroundings.

“Of course. However, you know I am strictly professional in times of potential danger.” That could not be more true. Roman loved his friends, but for him, being a guard trumped them any day. He wasn’t about to let years of hard work, twice the work most people put in, be ruined in one conversation.

“Sigh,” De said aloud, too lazy to perform the action. “The Northern and Eastern districts, the ones facing the Moralité Sea are all clear. Reports from the wall say there hasn’t been any suspicious activity, except for a bandit or two. Trust me, I know it’s been a slow day.” De moved from the brick corner on the left of Roman, shuffling across the wall until his right shoulder was a centimeter away from Roman’s left metal shoulder.

“That’s good.” Roman smiled shyly at De, letting himself have this moment.

“How are you De?” His voice was small and fragile, mixed with uncertainty. De spoke in the same tone.

“I’ve been doing great. How are you?”

“Could be better. How’s your curse?”

“I still can’t control lying and the scales are itching like hell.”

Roman nodded, hating that he related to this. Roman’s curse was internal, a metaphorical leech to his energy. Of course, he knew he wouldn’t let the fact that every morsel of his energy was spent twice as fast stop him from being a royal guard. Sometimes he overworked himself, but that was a small price compared for the honor of defending his King. 

De, nicknamed Deceit by Roman, was cursed to lie uncontrollably. It confused 90% of people, leaving De with few friends. With Roman, all it took was a few hand gestures to tell him that he was lying.

A curse could only be cast by a witch. That exact fate just so happened to befall Roman and Deceit at young ages. To remove a curse, one had to hire a witch. Unfortunately, witches, being the scum they are, know that, and charge a lifetime’s worth of money to remove curses. 

“How’s yours?” De asked. They had bonded through their shared suffering. Granted, they often had small squabbles that would morph into intense competitions. They loved each other deep down, though. Really deep down.

“It’s… it’s always getting worse. And when I train harder it’s like I get even more tired. Nothing is working anymore.” Roman threw his head back against the wall, wanting to bang the curse out of it. 

De understood. He had been lying more frequently these days, a puppet to an unknown force bent on ruining what might be called his life. Really, it was him keeping his head down, doing boring patrols, lying to half a dozen people daily, and stealing moments of happiness he didn’t deserve.

“Getting up has been so difficult. I just want to sleep forever.” Roman groaned, his fatigue more evident than before. 

“I get it.” De said, putting a hand on Roman’s shoulder. 

“I’m head guard, but what comes next? What’s the next dream to chase?” He grabbed at his hair again, tugging it.

“You’ll get replaced eventually.” Roman swiveled his head, startled. De’s hand, still on Roman’s shoulder, clenched. He shook his head at Roman, eyes revealing his internal horror. Roman knew he was lying, but what if it was true? What if he was replaced? What if he wasn’t good enough anymore? 

“It’s true.” De said, his tone encolied with malice so thick it even surprised De. His hand was frozen on Roman’s shoulder, his grip growing tighter and tighter. He couldn’t lose Roman. He had others, but Roman was witty and hardworking and… Roman’s eyes were locked on the ground. With his right hand, he motioned an X, a lie. Roman didn’t look up. Numbly, De realized, the armour was cutting his palm.

“You’ll be replaced by someone you least expect. Like me.” De was shaking now, his voice small and broken; his lips curved into a snake’s grin, the curse preying on his trembling emotions. Roman was still. What if De was right? What if De would surpass and forget him? What if he got stabbed in the back again?

Throughout the years, Roman learned to love De. Now, for a moment, a singular second, it all dissipated. Slipped from memory, from sight, from mind. Roman knew it was a lie... right?

Roman ran. He left his post. That was the worst thing to do at the moment, with the threat of war. But his mind could take no more, he had to move his body away from De’s poisonous words. Every lie, every syllable that slipped through his mouth was slowly becoming the truth. De was showing more strength in his training as a royal guard. He could easily pass Roman in the ranks. And Roman would lose his position, all his hard work down the gutters. His tear stained pillow, his constant desire to be better, the mornings he overslept because he was fueling another candle along with his own would be for nothing.

So, Roman ran. He ran to the castle, through the door, down the main hall, up the stairs, down another hall, and through his bedroom door. He pushed himself into a corner of the room, sinking to his knees. He sobbed, heavy armor stabbing his skin, his soul. He poured all his emotions into his tears, then more, and more. He could barely lift his head to see out the window. When he did, he cursed.

The sun was shining bright in the middle of the sky.

-

After the conversation with Roman, Virgil circled around the castle a few times, silently hoping that, at some point, the sun would reach the horizon. It was about three quarters of the way there now, the grand clocks around the castle saying it was four-thirty. At least the turtle in the sky was waking up now.

Once Virgil got tired of wandering, he ventured back to the library. Patton was there, reading a monstrous book. He seemed oddly into it. He even giggled at it. Virgil figured Patton had gone insane, so he interrupted him.

“Hey Patton.” Patton jumped, but calmed down once he saw that the communicator was a dangerously bored Virgil.

“Hey kiddo, what brings you here again?” He slid an extremely tiny bookmark in the book and shut it, sliding it across the counter.

“I’m bor-r-r-red.” Virgil let his head thunk on the counter, making Patton giggle.

“You’ve been bored all day?”

“I had a few things to do after reading time, but those were really small things and the sun moves so slo-o-o-o-ow.”

“That stinks, kiddo.” Patton mocked, ruffling Virgil’s orderly hair. He glared at him, but Patton showed no sign of stopping his merciless hair floofing attacks.

“Patton, I will make you climb that ladder to the top if you don’t stop.” Patton kept ruffling.

“What if I refuse.” Patton said with a smug face. Virgil could feel his hair start to form knots. Why did he have to ruffle his slightly orderly hair? It was inconvenient and annoying.

“Then I’d be really annoyed with you.”

“I’d choose the ladder over that.” Patton finally stopped messing with hair, relaxing his evil hands in front of him.

“So, whatdya wanna do?” Patton rocked his head back and forth, entranced on the strands of auburn falling in front of his eyes. 

“Not be bored.” Patton’s rocking was nauseous, so he pushed his face back down.

“Well, we could play chess,” Patton suggested. “Or, there are a few books I thought you’d enjoy. There's Moby Dick, Spotting Witches Vol.12, or Peter Pan." 

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Another Witch volume?" Patton blushed. 

"They are very interesting! In a terrifying kind of way."

“Chess sounds more fun.” Virgil smirked at Patton. “You’re going to lose horrifically, though.” Patton scoffed in response.

“Is that a challenge?” They both grinned evilly, moving to more comfortable seats with a chess board already set up.Virgil took white, Patton black.

“You bet, sap.”

“Bring it on, wench.” Patton prepared himself, since white went first.

As usual, it was intense. Both players had backed each other into corners a few times before finding a clever way to evade. Eventually, they each had a few pawns, a knight, and a king left. (Virgil had demolished Patton’s queen pretty early into the game. Patton scoffed, offended that he would have such a ruthless nature. Patton had retaliated by bishoping his queen straight after that, which earned a loud “WHAT?!” from Virgil.) The Prince was currently winning, starting to succeed in backing Patton’s king into a corner.

“Check.” Virgil said for about the tenth time. Patton mumbled a lame insult, too busy scanning the board for a solution. When he found it, his face lit up. The strategy might actually change the game for him.

“Out goes the knight!” Patton declared, whisper yelling as to not be shushed. He used his own knight to swipe out Virgil’s. The Prince gasped.

“Oh you did not just do that.” Virgil intended it to be menacing, although it showed more of his worry than anything. It put his king in check too, he noticed, since he hadn’t paid attention to it in a while.

“Check.” Patton rested his chin on his hand, far too pleased with himself.

Virgil scrambled to find a way to escape his situation, each time more desperate to find it. When he couldn’t see one, he moved his king in a good direction. It was Patton’s turn, now. Patton only grew excited. He didn’t see it!

In one swift movement, Patton pushed his pawn forward one space and cheered “Checkmate!” He threw his arms in the air, smiling wide at Virgil’s defeated face.

“You are too smart for your own good.” Virgil muttered, placing the ‘dead’ pieces back on the board in the default pattern.

“Rematch?” Virgil asked, Patton nodding. Virgil let Patton have the white side this round. Patton smiled at him, Virgil returning the favor. A day in with his best friend was exactly what both needed.

It was another hour before they finished three games. Then they finished four in the next hour. According to the tallies Virgil made, Patton had won six of the eight games. That was when Virgil’s stomach grumbled, making both of them laugh..

“I’m gonna go to the kitchen for something to eat. Want anything?” 

“No, I cook my own food at home.” Patton smiled warmly. “I’ll have to make a meal for you one day kiddo, I think you’d like my cooking.” Virgil pointed at him, not bothering to contain his smile in return.

“I’m holding you to that offer. You are not getting out of that.” Patton chuckled, visioning plates of homemade cookies.

“Wasn’t planning on it, kiddo.” Virgil walked out of the library, finding it difficult to leave. The sun seemed to appreciate him playing chess with Patton, because it was almost touching the horizon now.

In this moment, he was thinking about Patton’s brownies, choosing to think about the sweetness of the dessert. 

A hand slammed on his mouth. Virgil’s arms were dragged back and together. He was tugged backwards, eyes somehow blindfolded at the same time. Why was he going backwards? He tried to slam his legs down, but he could barely even lift them. His head was feeling fuzzy when his feet rubbed against uneven ground. Was he being kidnapped? Why did the world feel so fast-paced all of a sudden? A wave of nausea hit, causing him to vomit in his throat. Just like in those dumb books. ‘When you teleport, it is as if your stomach cannot help the bile that arises from the trip.’ He let out long, desperate, strangled screams. The only response was the hand pressing harder on his jaw.

His heart was pounding now. Did it do that before? What was happening?! Who was he being taken by? Why wasn’t he fighting back? His senses came to him, and he twisted and wriggled out the captors grip. He tried running, until he felt like air, until his legs were the lead that dragged him down. He barely felt his captor tackle him, barely felt the second prick (when did the first happen?) Numbness washed over him, vision dimming. All he knew, all he was able to think, was that he wasn’t ready.

Far above his heavy lids, the sun sank into the sea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ashley posting this chap since i forgot gracies a03 password rip-. Also Kitten (KittenPotterasaurus 72 on youtube) helped edit this chapter as well so shoutout to her.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's the prologue! Thank you so much for the start of my baby, and for this funky little adventure!!! See you in the next few chapters!!!


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